The Debatable Existence of Love at First Sight
by The-Ones-Who-Ran
Summary: So, apparently, the second date is way too early to declare your undying love for someone. Who knew? Cecil certainly hadn't.


So, _apparently_, the second date is _way _too early to declare your undying love for someone.

Who knew?

Cecil certainly hadn't.

The confusion and – Carlos winced guiltily – plain _hurt_ in his expression made this evident. His blond eyebrows furrowed over wide, violet eyes that shone with a vague, bewildered sort of pain. Carlos tried not to see it, but the low, green glow of his car's dash cast an eerie light over his friend's face, giving his pale skin a sickly tint that only served to illuminate Cecil's bottom lip, caught between his teeth in a picture of worry.

Blushing faintly, Carlos retreated even further to his side of the car, sinking into the driver's seat awkwardly. His hands found the steering wheel – fingers running restlessly its smooth contours in the thick silence – as he turned slowly to face forward, despite the fact that the vehicle lay unmoving, having been parked in the back of the Arby's parking lot nearly fifteen minutes ago. He felt Cecil's eyes moving over him, probing him with silent questions as he glared ahead.

"Have I done something wrong?" came a small voice behind him, tentative and soft, completely unrecognisable from the tone it had taken, only a few short hours ago, as it had reported the ongoing rebellion of the town's house pets against their owners, and urged people to surrender all their treats and toys and to hide, remaining calm until things quieted down and the fires of revolution had died. Most wouldn't even be able to make the connection, Carlos knew, between the well-known, much-loved Voice of Night Vale, and the quiet, hesitant whisper coming from the passenger seat, confused and hurt and vulnerable and…

Carlos bit his lip, and let out a breath of air in a soft sigh. He unclenched a hand from the steering wheel to rub firmly at the skin between his eyes, before dropping his head into the hold of both his hands, hiding from Cecil's innocent inquiry. He could still see the impression of him on his palms, burned into his vision like the bright, blinding flash of a camera, only to be banished by a few dozen forceful blinks.

"Nothing," Carlos muttered his assurance into the skin of his wrists, before gaining the courage to drop his hands from his face and return Cecil's questioning gaze. His expression once again sent an uncomfortable lump of guilt into his gut, settling in his stomach like a large rock. "Sorry, it's – it's just me. You've got nothing to worry about. I'm just –" he met Cecil's skeptical, wounded expression and let his forehead collide with his palm "– being a total dick, apparently." Cecil seemed to want to speak up, just then, as if to protest, but Carlos shook his head "Just, forget it. I'm sorry, let's just…pick up where we left off."

However, neither man made an attempt to shuffle closer to the other, much less resume the rather enthusiastic making out that had been taking place only minutes ago. They just stared uncomfortably across the car at one another, the silence growing more pronounced as the seconds ticked slowly by (at least in Carlos' head, he wasn't sure time worked and felt quite the same for the man across from him).

"You know," Cecil began slowly, scanning the other man's face for any further signs of discomfort before continuing with slightly more confidence "I don't mind if you don't – or can't – say it back, you know." Cecil's thin, pale face flushed with embarrassment. "Or, if you don't want to hear it, that's fine, too. I probably should've asked first, waited a bit, I just didn't think. I just wanted to…" Cecil trailed off with another (frankly adorable) blush, nibbling at his lip in uncertainty, which only served to make Carlos feel even more like a massive jerk.

Carlos knew perfectly well that Cecil's brain (and heart) were immediately connected to his mouth, words sent flowing from his lips immediately as they sparked through the neurons of his brain. Cecil was completely incapable of censoring himself, even on the radio, and was content to speak his mind with unashamed honesty. It was lucky Cecil wasn't one for cursing, Carlos knew, otherwise he probably wouldn't have had his job in community radio very long. Which was an uncomfortable thought, for Carlos couldn't imagine him doing anything else.

"It's fine, I'm sorry," Cecil continued to reassure him, his apologetic tone aiming to soothe, though he really had done _nothing _wrong, acting like Carlos wasn't the most insensitive, tactless idiot. God, and he'd thought the whole 'scientists are self-sufficient' thing had been unintentionally hurtful, despite his best efforts to make a good impression. That stupid, unthinking remark paled in comparison to this, which bordered on cruel.

"No, Cecil, it's my fault. Don't apologise for anything, it's just…" Carlos tried again to explain, stopped by an odd tightening in his throat. He slowly shook his head in defeat. "You told me you… cared about me and I acted like you'd grown a second head." Carlos paused, wincing at the memory (Cecil's radio show had been twice as informative that day, with two mouths working away at full speed), before continuing "I'm sorry. God, why do you even put up with me?"

_Because I love you_. The answer was on the tip of Cecil's tongue, but he swallowed it down in an odd show of restraint, knowing the words would most likely still be unwelcome, having caused their current tense discussion. "My sweet, clueless Carlos," he said instead, softly, with a small smile tugging at his lips "Surely even you know the answer to that. I thought I'd made myself clear."

"But you don't even know me, Cecil!" Carlos insisted, his voice climbing higher in volume. After a long moment's pause (of savoring that _voice_, that beautiful caramel _voice_, saying his name in such a tone), Cecil's lips formed a nearly-perfect 'O' as comprehension dawned on his features.

He didn't _quite _understand, of course (he knew Carlos didn't he? They'd lived in the same town for over a year, had already gone on two dates, met several times for coffee, shared a few kisses… If that wasn't knowing someone, Cecil began wondering if he'd ever really known anyone at all), but he knew Carlos had gotten to the root of the problem, his little outburst opening the floodgates for the surge of words and explanations Cecil could see already, bubbling impatiently behind his (gorgeous, wonderful, _perfect_) lips.

"Oh?" Cecil asked, his voice barely a hiccough, but enough to send Carlos' thoughts out from between his clenched teeth in a rush.

"It's not that I don't want you to…" Cecil's brilliant scientist seemed to struggle with the words for a moment before he decided to bypass them entirely "…_care _that much about me, and it's not like I don't – or can't – feel the same for you it's just –" Carlos' hands crept up the side of his face, fingers grabbing tightly at his dark curls in a show of frustration before blurting out "– are you _sure?_"

Cecil blinked once in surprise, staring at him with the same look of disbelief as when the scientist spoke of mountains (Carlos had apparently grown up close to one, and had often traveled down it during the winter months on some sort of decorated, wooden board. Cecil was still skeptical, and was almost entirely certain Carlos was just being funny).

Carlos fisted his hands all the more roughly against his scalp, fingers tangled in his hair, as he let out a hard sigh, immediately regretting his choice of words. He searched helplessly around for the _right _ones, but came up short (there was a reason he'd gone into science – language was most certainly _not _his forte). So, what does one do when at a loss for the right words?

Babble uselessly on with the wrong ones, of course.

And babble he did.

"It's not that I doubt your –" Carlos wrestled internally with the word again before admitting defeat with an awkward cough "– _feelings_ for me, it's just…" Carlos' dark brown gaze (_mocha_, Cecil supplied silently) met Cecil's deep violet one (like the sky at twilight, the back of Carlos' mind informed him) almost pleadingly, begging him to understand. Carlos tried again.

"I know you –" he growled as he skipped over the word again "I know you're _fond _of my hair, and partial to my voice, and my face, and you evidently like my lips but…" He paused, realising he was wandering a bit off the point. "…but, you don't really _know_ me, Cecil!"

Cecil remained quiet, not quite sure of Carlos' point yet, though the scientist's words seemed to be making sense (because of _course _Cecil was fond of Carlos hair. Saying it aloud was simply stating the obvious). He waited patiently for Carlos to continue, knowing the root of the problem had yet to be spoken, judging from the other man's uncomfortable shifting in his seat as he worried one (perfect) lip between his (perfect) teeth.

"It's just –" Carlos took a deep breath, and Cecil instantly knew that whatever he was trying to say next was difficult to voice. Cecil tried to nod encouragingly, the other man shooting him a small, grateful smile at this assurance. He swallowed. "How do I know that, once you spend more time with me, once you really get to know me…" He swallowed again, as if the words were stuck in his throat "How do I know that you won't change your mind?"

Cecil made a small (_completely involuntary_) noise in the back of his throat, both surprised and relieved. He broke into a shy smile, the worried skin over his eyes relaxing in an instant as a small (_and most definitely manly_) giggle escaped from his parted lips. "Oh, Carlos," Cecil breathed, as if speaking to a rather dull child (slowly, but with affection) "Oh, my lovely, naïve, Carlos."

The scientist frowned, fingers still helplessly knotted in his hair as he wondered whether or not he should be offended. Before he could come to a conclusion, Cecil had shuffled into his personal space once again. Slim, pale fingers gently covered his, guiding them carefully from dark tangles, bringing them to rest on the scientist's lap. The smaller, more delicate hands remained there, threading effortlessly with the darker pair, where they remained.

Where they belonged.

Deep violet twilight met delicious mocha, in looks of happiness and wariness, respectively.

Cecil bit his tongue, not mentioning the fact that he'd loved Carlos at first sight (and abruptly declared it over the radio – _"I fell in love instantly"_), because he knew that wouldn't help at all. Neither did he mention how he'd openly wept (on-air) when he'd thought Carlos had left this world for good, or how empty he'd felt without that faint, excited buzzing feeling that was the other man's presence at the back of his mind. He also didn't mention that the feeling he'd experienced upon first sight had only grown since, until he was sitting here now, near bursting with it. He also neglected to inform Carlos that it would be insufferable to be separated from him now.

Instead, he only smiled gently, playing idly with Carlos' fingers, his voice barely above a murmur. "As if I ever could."


End file.
